Page 14 of A Highland Gargoyle's Lucky Star
All joking aside, now that we’re all safe, I’m so relieved my whole body begins to shake.
A hunky orc paramedic with biceps the size of small tree trunks separates from the other responders to check me out.
The moment he touches me, I have another one of those weird zippity-zappity sensations that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.
We both freeze and the orc stares at me open-mouthed for a moment.
“Am I losing my mind or did you feel that too?” I ask.
“Bloody hell, you’re a—”
My shaking suddenly gets worse, and I’m so cold my teeth start chattering, which has the orc snapping back into medic mode. “Looks like you’re experiencing some mild shock,” he tells me, and he has me lie down on a nearby bench. He wraps me in a thermal blanket and gives me a bottle of water. “I’ll be back to check on you soon. When you’re feeling better, there’s someone you should talk to. Stay put until I come back.”
He heads off to treat others and after about ten minutes, I’m mostly back to normal. At least, my heart’s no longer pounding like it’s trying to escape my chest. I drink a full bottle of water and munch on a protein bar I was given.
When news crews start arriving on the scene to report on the story, I decide it’s time for me to book it. Not wanting to have my face plastered all over the news media of another country, I wait for an opportune moment to shrug off the blanket, grab my bag, and make my escape. I send a silent apology to the handsome orc paramedic, but I don’t care to linger here. My bad luck could still land me in hot water after all that happened, and I’m not going to risk it.
Deciding I’ve had enough sightseeing for one day, I quickly disappear into the nearest underground Tube station and head toward Euston station, where I’ll be catching my evening train to Scotland. I’m not about to push my questionable luck.
Something scary happened, but it wasn’t directed at me, and I even managed to save the day, so to speak. That could have been a fluke, though, and I’m not willing to tempt fate.
My goal is almost within my grasp, and I’m not going to waver now.
Scotland, here I come!
Chapter four
Elryk
Long ago, the Goddess granted special powers to some born to the gargoyle clans. Those who received her gifts were designated Guardians of the Line and given the responsibility of protecting the most powerful magic ley lines in the Terran realm. Such an overwhelming and dangerous duty seemed like a thankless task, a burden rather than a blessing. But the Goddess promised that these noble warriors and protectors would be handsomely rewarded, for only they among their kind would be destined to find a fated mate.
—Guardians of the Line: A Hidden History,by Dr. Targan Wildethorne
I’m covered in blood,grime, and sweat by the time I make it back to the castle stronghold hidden here in the Highlands and veiled from human eyes.
One of the guards hurries over as I land in the courtyard surrounded by the castle’s gray stone walls. “Sir, the Oracle has called a clan meeting.”
I stop in my tracks. “A divination?”
“Apparently, she’s had several visions. The whole castle’s buzzing with the news.”
I frown. It’s been far too long since the Oracle last had anything to share with us, and we’ve been at a bit of a loss for how to deal with the problem we’re currently facing.
I can only hope that whatever she witnessed might start to give us some answers. But I know such things tend to be more opaque than clear. They don’t always portend good either.
Some of her most important divinations have been warnings we needed to heed.
“Is she calling everyone to the Great Hall?” I ask.
“Aye, but…” He looks me up and down. “Sir, you’d best wash up quickly. You’re not fit to be in anyone’s company right now.”
I grimace. “Give me ten minutes.”
With considerable speed, I make my way to where my quarters are housed and take one of the fastest showers of my life, scrubbing myself raw to get off the worst of the days-long battle.
Once clean, I dress in a fresh tartan—like most of the men here, I don’t wear a shirt underneath as it just gets in the way of our wings—and head down to the Great Hall.
It’s early evening and already dark at this time of year. The Great Hall is one of the oldest parts of the castle and is alight with the glow of the massive chandeliers hanging from above. My boots on the stone floors echo in the cavernous space as I enter the room. Tapestries depicting my ancestors line the wallsand a roaring fire blazes in the enormous fireplace off to my right.
